And then there were none.

Well, it happened.

Hell did freeze over.

Serena Williams did get that TV gig she was coveting.

Michael Phelps did realize that he needed a driver's license to drive in Maryland.

A-Rod did admit that the steroids might have sullied his reputation just a little...

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There aren't many sports heroes left. They're now taking performance enhancing drugs and continually bitching about their jobs which pay them ten million dollars a year. They aren't worth admiring any more. I've given up on most of these so called heroes. But, I still had Tiger. In my eyes, he is the epitome of a sports star. He is articulate. When he is affronted, he doesn't lash out with his fists or his mouth. Instead, he beats his antagonists where it hurts the most...on the course.

And, on the back nine on Sunday afternoon in a major, he made every three foot putt. He stared into his opponents eyes and they always blinked. When he needed to hit out of a sand trap two hundred yards from the green and put himself in position to putt for a birdie, he pulled it off.

I've tried to pull off those types of shots during my golfing career. And, most times, I came up woefully short. And, I'm talking about playing with my buddies at the local municipal course. I felt the pressure and I succumbed to it. I met the enemy, and it was me who blinked. But, Tiger? He never blinked. He always came through. And, the one stat that I always could rely on was the fact that he had won every major in which he ever played when he was leading or tied for the lead at the start of the final round.

But, alas, Sunday was different. When Tiger needed to make that big putt, he was just a touch off line. When he needed to stick his iron shot, he overshot the green. In other words, he was human. He made mistakes on the back nine of a major. He lost a major even when he carried the lead into the final round.

But, that loss didn't make him any less of a man. He was as gracious in defeat as he is always humble in victory. He is the penultimate sports star and hero.

But, I'm still irked. I was relying on him to fulfill my personal fantasies of facing up to adversity and always overcoming. He let me down. I can't live vicariously through him anymore. He has become one of us. He can be had on the back nine. He can blink. He can be human.

So, yes, I'll now have to adjust to an imperfect world and acknowledge the imperfection of all men. But, he's still my hero. He's just not perfect.